


dog days

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "owner" lafayette, Dry Humping, Grinding, M/M, Pet Play, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, blowjob, collaring, puppy john, sort of??, to be specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:57:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't do this often.</p><p>or: John stresses himself out way too often and he needs to unwind, he needs to relinquish himself to someone. He needs to be less... human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dog days

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like 2 hours and it's like 1 am and i don't edit anything ever so,,,, lmao read this with a grain of salt i guess
> 
> but yeah so im a ho for pet play and things of the Like™ and there aren't nearly enough john/laf fics on this website so here i am, to fix it. 
> 
>  
> 
> anyway kudos & comments keep me living and writing so... pls leave those okay i'll leave you to it

They don't do this often. Once every few weeks, when John needs to unwind and let someone else take charge for once, he goes to Lafayette. He winds himself up too much too quickly, fighting day after day after day, nursing perpetual bruises on his knuckles. 

Tonight is one of those nights. He knocks on the door of Lafayette’s apartment, rocking slightly. He chews his lip. Fiddles with the strap of the bag on his shoulder. Lafayette’s never turned him down before, he's always accommodated him, been more than accepting, but John can't help the worry. He’s nearly thought himself into turning tail and leaving when a shirtless Lafayette opens the door. 

“ _Mon ami_ ,” he smiles, cracking the door a little wider to allow John to slip through. “How have you been, John?” Lafayette nudges, when John just stands in the living room silently for more than ten seconds. Startled, John walks toward the couch, slips off his shoes, and throws his bag down on the coffee table. Then, turning to Lafayette, he ungracefully drops to all fours. The realization dawns in Lafayette’s eyes within seconds, and he smiles knowingly. 

“I see. Alright, Jacky,” John smiles despite himself at the nickname. “Sit.” He does. “Stay. I’m going to go into my bedroom. Don't move a muscle.” Lafayette sticks his hand down and John licks it, a sign that he understands. He doesn't move. Even when he starts to think _maybe he's not coming back and he's just going to leave me here and what is he even doing_. Of course, Lafayette comes back, holding a very recognizable piece of black material in his hands. The sight makes John wriggle with pent-up excitement. 

“C’mere, Jacky. Good boy.” He praises as John pads his way across the floor, stopping to sit at his feet. “Head up, sweetheart. There we go. Just gotta get this fastened,” Lafayette rambles to himself every time he puts John’s collar on. It’s a simple thing, black, with a silver tag (shaped like a fucking bone nonetheless) that reads “jacky” on one side and “property of Lafayette” on the other. Once it’s on and tightened, Lafayette walks away. John whines, turning to watch the man go, but his fear turns into confusion as Lafayette sits on the couch. 

John doesn't move. Lafayette never told him he could. He never said he _couldn't_ , either, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. Realizing that John isn’t following him to the couch, Lafayette chuckles. “You really are a good boy, aren't you? Huh? Not moving until I give you permission, what a good dog.” Something inside John lights up at the last words. Lafayette pats the cushion next to him. “Get up here.” John obeys without a further thought, curling up and resting his head on Lafayette’s thigh. Fingers card through his hair and he sighs, nuzzling into the man’s leg. 

Over the course of a few minutes, John inches his way across Lafayette’s thigh and closer to his groin. He hopes, prays, that the man doesn't notice. Apparently he doesn't, and John continues his little journey until his nose is a mere inch from Lafayette’s clothed dick. He inhales, and the exhale turns into a whine. Lafayette’s hand tightens a little in his hair. 

“What do you want, Jacky? You gotta tell me.” John opens his mouth but the hand in his hair tugs harshly. “Not with words, sweetheart, pups don't speak.” 

John whines again, and then pushes his nose into the, slightly growing, bulge in Lafayette’s pants. He laps at the sweats, darkening the fabric with his saliva, trying to get Lafayette to just take them off already. 

“You are one impatient little thing, aren't you?” Lafayette laughs, sliding John’s head off of his lap so he can stand up to remove his sweats. He's not wearing anything underneath them. John’s mouth waters. He's practically shaking with arousal at this point, his jeans reaching the point of uncomfortable but he doesn't care. 

When Lafayette sits back down on the couch it takes all of John’s willpower not to just crawl into his lap and suck him within an inch of his life. He does crawl over, but instead of sucking Lafayette into his mouth, he just licks the head of his dick softly. He's always liked the taste, so when he hums softly to himself he doesn't really feel ashamed. He licks the head again a few times, daring to slip his tongue into the slit and the top. He gets a groan and a “good boy,” out of that one, so he stores away that information for later. He then turns his attention to the actual shaft, licking erratically everywhere. It’s really, _really_ sloppy, spit everywhere, coating John’s lips. 

He continues to lick in different places, savoring the feeling of his dick and the sound of the groans Lafayette is making. 

“Jacky,” Lafayette finally grunts out. John pulls back, spit trailing from his lips, to look up at him. “You gotta- you gotta do more than that, sweetie, I’m dying here.” 

John throws him a lopsided smile and puts his head back down, closing his mouth completely around the head of Lafayette’s dick. Lafayette's fingers find themselves in John’s hair again, massaging his scalp but letting John control the pace. He takes him down inch by inch, swirling his tongue and hollowing his cheeks at certain points. Lafayette is groaning, pulling at John’s hair. 

“Fuck,” he spits after John dips his tongue into his slit again. “God, Jacky, you're such a good boy for me, so good at this.” 

John preens under his words, sucking harder at the other man’s dick, determined to keep coaxing more praise out of him. Lafayette’s hand somehow tightens even more in his hair. He groans out “Jacky, I’m-” and then he's coming, shooting down John’s throat and John whines for it, swallowing diligently. Once it's all down, John pulls back, sitting obediently next to Lafayette. 

Lafayette’s hand moves to John’s jeans, and he undoes them, letting John slip them off. When he goes to remove his boxers, though, a hand is there to stop him. 

“No,” Lafayette explains. John whines as loud as he possibly can and ruts toward the air, desperate for friction. “You want to get off, Jacky? You want some help?” 

John moves closer, licking at Lafayette’s hand. Lafayette pats his thigh and John jumps at the chance for friction, straddling him with his hands on the man’s chest. He rolls his hips slowly at first, but picks up speed quickly, setting himself into a rhythm. He’s panting into Lafayette’s collarbone, and he absentmindedly licks at it. Lafayette laughs, wrapping his arms around John and pulling him down onto his thigh, increasing the pressure on his dick and driving him absolutely wild. 

“C’mon, Jacky. I know you're close. C’mon. You can do it, sweetheart.” Lafayette encourages. He brings his mouth close to John’s ear and whispers “Come. Now.” and John does, his hips stuttering and a breathy moan escaping his lips. He climbs off of Lafayette’s leg gingerly, snatching a pair of sweats out of the back he discarded earlier. He peels off his boxers, now sticky on the inside, and pulls on the pants. Lafayette pulls his own sweats back on. 

Lafayette yawns, running a hand through his own hair and taking out the tie. “I’m going to bed, Jacky. You wanna come?” 

John yips before he can stop himself, dropping onto all fours again and following Lafayette into his bedroom. He climbs up into the bed and into the space that Lafayette has left. He curls into Lafayette’s chest and the man wraps his arms around him, petting his back and neck soothingly. 

“Goodnight, _mon chiot_ ,” Lafayette sighs, his nose in John’s hair. John smiles brightly, although the Lafayette doesn't get to see it, and licks his chin.


End file.
